INVISIBLE POWER BOOK TWO: ALEX NOZIAK (INVISIBLE RECRUITS)

by Buckham, Mary

  He might be listening to reason but his gut was giving him a different message.

  Hurry.

  CHAPTER 32

  I waited till I was outside the museum to return Bran’s call. I had tried Ling Mai’s number once more but still no response, which meant by the time Bran answered I was primed and loaded for bear.

  “Where are you?” he snarled. No hello. No how are you. No kiss my butt.

  “Paris.” Two could play the snark game.

  His inhaled breath was enough to create an airspace vacuum. “Alex.”

  My dad could get that same tone. The one on the razor edge between I’m-trying-for-patience-here and the belt strap.

  “I have no idea where I am. This city looks the same no matter where you are.”

  “Try harder.”

  Or I could hit the cancel button.

  He must have heard my thoughts as he backpedaled. As much backpedaling as a warlock could do, which was measurable in micro-millimeters. “François and I may have some information for you.”

  “Oh?” Van? Getting me off a murder rap? Vaverek?

  “Best that we don’t speak of it over the phone.”

  I sidestepped a puce-colored Citroen that was trying to park on the curb and reminded myself that I was low on allies. A quick look around and I answered, “I just passed the Champs Élysées on my way to the seventh arrondissement.”

  There was a pause on the other end and some muffled words before he came back on. “Where are you heading?”

  “I told you.” He must have been speaking to François, if he had shifted from his Fido form, but the streetlight had just turned red. Stepping out to cross French traffic took a heck of a lot more concentration than crossing a street in Mud Lake, Idaho. Unless there was a rodeo in town, then all bets were off.

  “Let me rephrase.” He was using his put-upon tone. “Why are you going there?”

  “To find the doctor who was with Cheverill. He’ll be able to validate that I had nothing to do with the old man’s death.”

  “You know his name?”

  “Not exactly, but I will soon.” I swerved to avoid a matron with half a dozen small pug dogs snorting on their leashes. They were cute as all get out but sounded like a miniature train convention.

  “Alex? You still there?”

  I guess I missed something but I was trying to decide to cut through the green swath of the ‪Esplanade des Invalides‬ in front of me that looked like a wide park area between two busy streets, or head toward one of the thoroughfares, the Rue Fabert? Which area was creating the stronger tug?

  I angled in the direction of the Rue Fabert but immediately halted. Using a casting spell might have been easier but it was like following a scent. I had to focus to make sure I didn’t get turned around.

  “Yes, I’m here, but I’m busy. Can I call you after I track down the doctor?”

  “No.” The single word felt like a cold splash of water, until he added, “The Rodan Museum is not far from where you are. A few blocks. Could you wait for us on the front stairs? I promise, we’ll be there in less than twenty minutes. We might even be there before you are.”

  When he was sounding helpful I was most wary. It meant he had his own agenda and was placating me long enough to get me to do what he thought was right.

  Like that was going to happen. Unless I agreed with him, which hadn’t happened that much.

  “If you’re not there in fifteen minutes I’m leaving.” Not much of a gracious concession but I’d already walked across what felt like most of Paris, was hungry and cranky, so Bran had to take what I had to offer and right now it wasn’t much.

  “We’ll be there.”

  He hung up before I could ask who he meant by we, but figured it included François.

  Today was feeling less and less like my lucky day.

  CHAPTER 33

  I’d found the Rodan Museum but only thanks to a pleasant Spanish gentleman I figured might be a gnome, even if he was out in direct sunlight. Something about his pointy beard, and the sly glint in his eyes. But he could have been a sprite. I wasn’t so sure about the nuances yet.

  So much to learn about preternaturals. So little time given the IR team had been run ragged dealing with Vaverek and whatever the man, if he was a man, was up to. Which made me wonder if he might be a mage or sorcerer. Like warlocks they were always stirring up trouble.

  Which brought me full circle to thinking about Bran as I cooled my heels near the steps leading up to the museum’s entry doors. There was a low-level stage set up directly in front of them so I had moved down a crushed rock pathway toward a pond complete with a spraying fountain. It was pretty in a rigid sort of way, but then that seemed to be the style of Parisian landscaping.

  Where was he? I glanced at my cell phone and sighed as I stuffed it into my back pocket. I’d ditched the purse I’d been carrying as useless and to keep my hands free. In spite of the soft blue sky and wisps of clouds the day felt foreboding. Or that could be my mindset, waiting for a shoe to drop, or smack me up side the head.

  On the other hand I sensed that Van was near.

  That’s what kept me going. Yes, I needed the doctor, but I needed to quit shilly-shallying along. Van needed my help and I’d spent all morning not doing a thing about it. On the other hand so much was murky. More questions raised than answers found and yet things seemed to be connected. The death of Cheverill. Bran being called before the Council. Vaverek and his machinations. What was connecting them? If anything?

  One minute more and I was ditching Bran and whatever he was going to tell me. Standing around wasn’t getting me closer to my brother. Or the doctor guy.

  I stepped toward one of the hedges bracketing the entrance area when a hand came down on my shoulder.

  My response was immediate. Grabbing the wrist I twisted it into a nice lock, spun to the outside of it and jammed the elbow with my other hand. A few seconds more and I’d pop the shoulder.

  “Damnit, Alex, enough!”

  Just when the fun was starting.

  I released Bran, stepping far enough away he couldn’t retaliate physically. At least not without bringing security guards from the museum down on us. As it was a few tourists milling about were giving us the stink-eye look that I smiled to deflect. Friends goofing off, that’s all.

  I guess it looked more like a grimace as several of them hurried away, their footsteps churning the gravel.

  “She always greet friends this way?” A strange male voice asked behind me.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Frank in his François persona shaking his head at a broad-shouldered Mediterranean-looking man I’d never seen before. He smelled like a Were though there was no let-me-eat-you-then-meet-you vibe about him. He looked like a charmer. A Hugh Jackman type with an aw- shucks attitude, sun burnished hair a little long and curling over his forehead, and a smile that could slay women. Not me, not right then, and he looked like he knew it, keeping his hands loose at his sides, his head angled down so that even though he was well over six feet he didn’t threaten me with his size.

  He wanted to disarm my resistance to the attraction he no doubt usually received from women. But why?

  A Were who didn’t act like a Were. Why?

  “Our Alex is a little jumpy at times,” François murmured.

  “I’m not ‘your’ Alex and if I jump it’s because you scared the bejesus out of me.” I glared at Bran to make my point.

  Rubbing his wrist he didn’t snap at me but nodded his head toward the newcomer. “Alex, this is Willie.”

  And I cared because? But I had no beef against this stranger, no need to take my pissy mood out on him.

  He extended his hand but he shook as if afraid to crush my own. Thoughtful, but strange, as Weres usually were more aggressive. Even shifters had to practice giving human handshakes instead of pulverizing a stranger’s hand accidently.

  “A pleasure,” he said, tipping his head further, but his eyes were wary, as if waiting
for something to happen. From me? Like I was going to take out a Were? I could be rash but not too stupid to live.

  I glanced over at François to see what was up.

  “He’s our new consultant,” he said, as if I’d spoken aloud.

  “Consulting for what?” This time I looked at Bran. When really confused go to the source.

  It was the Were who answered though. “All things Were.”

  Seriously? I raised brows at him, not intentionally because making fun of a Were was suicidal, but he just shrugged and explained, “I’m a recovering Were.”

  “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

  “I admit, there are not many of us.” He shrugged his shoulders and I bit the inside of my cheek not to say anything that could get me killed. “In fact, I’m the only one I know in Europe.”

  “Europe’s a large place.”

  “I’m hoping with a little more visability, other Weres will start to hear about We’re Not.”

  “We’re not what?” Talking to him was like walking into thick fog. I was getting more and more confused.

  “No. We, apostrophe re. Get it? We’re Not. As in we’re not Weres. Kinda catchy don’t you think? I thought it was much better than Weres-R-Us or Recovering Weres twelve step program.”

  I thought he was crazier than a Road Runner cartoon. “Sorry, William was it?”

  “Willie. Less threatening.”

  He was right about that. Willie the recovering Were. And this is what I’d waited on Bran for?

  My look must have screamed as much as Bran stepped closer and said, “The Weres have been deep in the middle of this. And that’s before the attack by the two last night.”

  “That’s what gives Weres such a bad reputation,” Willie interjected.

  A well-deserved reputation I wanted to point out. Who said I couldn’t hold my tongue?

  François threw an arm across Willie’s shoulder. A move that had me cringing and stepping back. Except nothing happened. No blood. No head forcibly removed from the body. Nothing.

  Just two heterosexual buddies having a good time.

  I must have fallen down a rabbit hole.

  Shaking my head to clear it I ignored the Were, recovering or not, and François, who grinned a smile that dared me to say something, and focused on Bran. “I still have to find the doctor. You coming?”

  I surprised myself by asking. I think I surprised him too as he nodded at François and Willie before falling in beside me.

  We walked in silence for a bit, in spite of the crushed gravel. I was always amazed at how stealthily shifters and Weres could move as I was the only one making noise, but then I was the only one in stilettos.

  “What’s your new friend going to help with?” I asked, not bothering to keep my voice down. Weres have great hearing, and eyesight, and smell. They are like Shifters that way. The difference is shifters can change at will, whereas Weres are moon driven. They can change outside of a full moon but it is a painful process. Plus they are driven to change based on the phase of the moon. Shifters have a lot more flexibility and can ignore the moon’s cycles.

  Weres on the other hand could communicate to one another while in their animal form, the most powerful and older ones at least. Only a few very rare shifters could speak once their animal self manifested. My father was one of them, but my brothers could not.

  Someday, maybe, but Van wouldn’t if we didn’t find him and make sure he lived.

  I hadn’t realized I had started walking faster until Bran put a hand on my arm. “You’re worried. Has something happened?”

  “Not yet.” But that was the problem. I expected something, something bad. And you know what they say, what you focus on you get.

  “We here?” he asked a few minutes later as we stood on an empty street. On one side was what looked like an office building, an office building Parisian style with two wings thrusting toward the street and the main wing hunkered low and far from the sidewalk.

  But that’s not the direction I found myself facing. It was the park area across the street calling to me. A U-shaped area bordered by shrubs and large trees on three sides, a white rock path bracketing a sweep of mowed lawn and deep into the area a bronze statue. Not Rodan’s Thinker but something with more mass. Park benches were scattered along the path, several of them occupied with what looked like ordinary office workers. A few strollers hugged the far shadows. It should have looked calm and innocent but something was telling me it wasn’t.

  “He’s over there?” Bran brushed shoulders with me.

  It was a sign of how unnerved I felt that I jumped when he spoke. I nodded my head, a slow, methodical movement. “I don’t know where, but the spell indicates somewhere in that park.”

  “Then that’s where we need to go.” François was all business now.

  Were Willie was the one who broke the tension. Or added to it as he said, “There are Weres around. Several powerful ones. A shifter, too. In distress I’d say.”

  I couldn’t see or smell any though I usually could if they were close enough. I guess it could take a Were to recognize a Were.

  François glanced at Bran but spoke to me. “We still ‘going in’ as you Yanks say?”

  I didn’t bother answering as I stepped into the empty street to cross it. Even the roar of traffic was muted here. A few birds twittered but I didn’t see any. A man turned the page of the newspaper he was reading but as I moved deeper into the park with Bran to one side, François and Willie on the other, there was very little sound.

  Until the scream erupted.

  CHAPTER 34

  Jeb heard his son’s shout. The cry of a wolf in agony. Wolves are silent hunters, no growls, no snarls, no yips. The fact Van was howling meant something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He started running down a street that seemed far too long, Pádraig nipping at his heels.

  The younger man cried out, “That didn’t sound good.”

  “It isn’t.”

  Jeb skidded around a corner and spotted the green space on his right. The park? Here?

  The scream came again. Somewhere deeper into the grassy area. A couple of people were running toward the street, away from the sound, looking over their shoulders.

  “Van,” he shouted. “Van, where are you?”

  A man shrieked, the sound cut off suddenly.

  Jeb crossed the street, skirting parked cars and ran toward the nearest pathway.

  “You sure this is a good idea?” Pádraig panted beside him. “Shouldn’t we wait for the police?”

  Jeb shook his head, scanning the area, but he couldn’t see anything. Three men and a woman were running toward a group against the far edge, near a statue. Four or five men huddled together, but it wasn’t clear what they were doing.

  “Sir, we really should wait.” Pádraig’s voice sounded high and winded.

  “My son’s here. Somewhere.”

  Jeb stepped onto the grass. Better to get a wider view.

  The huddle of men in the back broke open just as the girl who looked like Alex running toward them was tackled by a dark-haired man behind her.

  That’s when he saw Van. In his wolf form.

  CHAPTER 35

  “Let me go,” I screamed as Bran tackled me, grinding me into the gravel. “He needs me.”

  “He’ll kill you.”

  Bran pressed against my back, blanketing me. Couldn’t he see what was going on? That was Van. I could recognize him in human or wolf form, which he was in now, in spite of this being a public place. The men had Van wrapped in chains. I had to get to him.

  I rocked back and forth but Bran was too large, too strong, and wasn’t budging an inch.

  “Van,” I shouted, clawing the ground to break free.

  The group of men huddled around Van peeled away, as if a circle opening. In the middle Van was huddled over, his wolf form struggling against chains, desperate to get free. Wolves were silent predators. They didn’t make sounds except to warn others off. But Van’s cry had
been something else. Anguish. Rage. Desperation.

  One man’s body lay stretched across the path, an arm torn from his torso, his blood too red in the glaring noon light. No wonder Van was frantic. What idiot would wave red meat in front of a wolf?

  Van’s wolf nature had taken over and he needed calming. But the men were doing just the opposite. One was lashing him with what looked like a whip. Another pulled the chain around his throat tighter. I could smell the scent of singeing fur from here.

  “I have to help him,” I cried, but it was useless. Bran pinned my arms to my side. When I got free I’d kill him.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled against my ear. “Hold still.”

  “You. Don’t. Understand.” My words came in short gasps. Bran didn’t understand. He didn’t know wolves. He didn’t know Van.

  “That’s my brother.”

  “Not now he isn’t.”

  Van was Van though. He always had more control over his wolf than any of my brothers. He needed my help. If I could get those men away from him, I knew I could save him. I was the only one who could.

  Then I smelled them. Weres. Several of those encircling Bran were Weres.

  You can do this. It was the woman’s voice. From yesterday. You have the power. Use it.

  Of course, how stupid could I be?

  Adeo. Adeo. Agero. Adepto.

  Come. Come. Increase. Acquire.

  I started the chant. The one I used yesterday morning. The one that sucked power from the others around me. As long as I pulled back, not using it in full force or with Bran’s magic too, I could stop the Weres around Van and free him.

  “Don’t, Alex,” Bran whispered, as he had done in the street, only there was a threat behind the words now. “Don’t do it.”

  The woman’s voice washed against me. Listen to me. I’m here. You’re not alone.

  “Mom?”

  Van’s wolf roared.

  I reached for him, willing him to see me, to know I was there for him.

  Suscipio. Solvo.